


Vulnerable

by SketchGurlie



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchGurlie/pseuds/SketchGurlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We're vulnerable. All of us. We try to pretend to be tough so that the everyday things in life have no effect on us. We make a constant effort to be immune, so that the things that irritated us when we were younger, don't bother us today. But it does. We try to make others around us immune to those nightmares... Season Finale spoilers. Part 3 to "There He Is Again" and "Dinner". Sort of a repost, sorry.<br/>Part 1: There He is Again<br/>Part 2: Dinner<br/>Part 4: CLarity</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

We’re vulnerable.

All of us.

We try to pretend to be tough so that the everyday things in life have no effect on us. We make a constant effort to be immune, so that the things that hurt us when we were younger, don’t bother us today. But it does. We try to make others around us immune to those nightmares and it never works.

I’m still affected by my father-Mr. Robot’s… His death. Or is it my own failure to him…sometimes I forget.  I’m still affected by my mother. I can admit that too. You knew already how much people like me like to pretend…because what’s better than forgetting the people who loved, hurting us?

Except when it doesn’t work anymore.

There are ghost memories of her floating in my peripheral on a constant basis when I’m alone. It usually happens when I choose to dump my scripts. You know, you’ve seen it happen. A mistake…always a mistake that needs fixing.

What about Tyrell? I wonder, if whenever he’s alone…does he feels his past creep up on him?

I’m not alone now.

His lips push against mine and I answer back with the same force.

It’s so gentle. It’s even better than the time he kissed me in the bathroom of that restaurant he took me to for lunch that day. Not that that one was bad or anything. But, If he did kiss me in his living room, this kiss probably would have been better than that one too.

 

How do I even know that was real? How do I even know _this_ , is real?

When we break apart, slowly, he glances down at me smiling.

 

“My wife…she doesn’t need me anymore Elliot. Ever since I killed that woman…I lost my job and my wife doesn’t want me anymore. I probably will not be able to see my son, until I do what she wants,” he says, his smile now showing sadness.

He then kisses me quickly and whispers a familiar phrase to me.

“You said that before. What does it mean?” I ask, looking up at him. It sounds like a term of endearment in his tone this time instead of defeat like the last time. But, like I said before I don’t speak Swedish and my phone is over there on the table so I can’t use Google translate.

“Do you want to use Google...or would you rather I say what it actually means?”

“S-say it.”

What is he afraid of?

His wife isn’t here, so that can’t be it.

I’m usually more afraid of him than he is of me.

 

“You’re not dreaming Elliot. You’re not imaging things. I am on your side for as long as you want me to be. We are the same and are meant to be together. You know that already.”

I stare at him, lost in my own thoughts while he’s always swimming in them before I can catch up.

He’s always in my head. Since the beginning-

He only stares back down at me in admiration or is it-

 _Shit_.

I get it.

“You’re in love with me,” I whisper.  

“Yes. I am,” he admits, letting a small chuckle escape from his lips. “Why? Does that surprise you?”

Who could ever love me? Am I really that special enough to love for someone?

I know he’s not toying me with me this time. But-

“Are you real?”

“Yes, Elliot. Touch me and see,” he says, taking my hands to pull around his waist. I tremble as I unconsciously compare his waist with Shayla’s.  He lifts his gloved hands to cup my face. “Not only that, my love for you is real. Would you like to feel how real, it really is?”

I can’t help but stare at him, wide eyed and filled so many questions.

Do you see this? Do you hear him?

Do you hear me having a hard time breathing, so much that all you can hear from me is that I’m almost gasping for air? Do you see beads of sweat forming on the sides of my face? Do you see Tyrell watching me like I’m his god in the flesh and he only wants to be my prophet…if I let him. This is so different than anything I could’ve imagined with anyone.

“Do you love me Elliot?”

“I-I don’t know,” I answer quietly. I can’t stop keeping eye contact with him even while my answer seems to almost reject him. That’s not what I meant. That’s not what I wanted to say. It’s too fast-what we have. I know his secrets and he knows a few of mine.

I know, I’m crazy--schizo and all that but-

He’s lost everything and yet he’s here with me.

He says something in Swedish again as he kisses my forehead.

He’s keeping me out of the loop again.

The messed up part of it is, I can’t read his face. He calls me the one constant in a series of variables but for the life of me I can’t understand why he’s hiding something again. Putting up a firewall to keep me out…even after he’s told me about strangling that woman. Even after telling me about the power he felt-the way he felt wonder from doing it.

He amazes me.

“Could you say that again? I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I say, feeling lost again.

I can hear Darlene yelling at me, telling me to focus and not run away.

When did that happen? This memory isn’t recent.

 

“Elliot,” he sighs, then kisses me, deeper and longer until he asks me where my room is.

“Don’t you want me to show you where I work?” I ask him, gulping at his repeated request. It’s hotter in the room now. “Where I’ve done, what I did, with the hack?”

“Yes, Elliot. Show me the way,” he answers, as his hands leave my face. He watches me as I nod, and gather my things from the couch. When I turn around, he’s still standing in the same spot, but his gloves are gone. I can’t tell if he’s sad or content, but he shows his appreciation to me when we finally get to fsociety.

 

 ~Mr. Robot~

 

Three days.

How did I lose so much time?

I remember when… I…to Bill.

To Bill…. Or was that Mr. Robot? And Whiterose? And Flipper?

When I went to see Tyrell in his car—No, that was Mr. Robot. Don’t you remember?

I forget sometimes.

My brain feels like it’s bathing in fire.  

I’m not making any sense to you am I? I’m barely making any sense to myself.

Everyone’s going crazy…somehow I feel like I’m the only one here keeping a better handle on fsociety’s success and that’s saying a lot.

Or maybe I’m just lying to myself and to you.

I forget how I ended up in Tyrell’s SUV alone, banging on the dash and waiting for Mr. Robot or Tyrell to appear.  

I’m waiting for something else. If there is a password somewhere, I could hack it to make whatever this lonesome feeling…this vulnerable feeling, disappear forever and give me my memories back.

 

Three days. Three.

How did I lose so much time?

Tyrell Wellick…how long ago did I meet him back at AllSafe? Seems like forever ago. The times he tried forcing my hand to join him. When exactly did he actually fall in love with me?

He called me special. He called me extraordinary.

I’m just a lowly Tech who’s addicted to Morphine, crying alone in my apartment and he’s-

I miss him. I miss him.

 

I miss kissing him. I miss him talking to me. I miss his eyes. I miss him.

 

Where is he when my world is continuing to fall apart?

 

And why aren’t you helping me find him?


	2. Chapter 2

"You okay kiddo?" he asks, standing over me. I don't have to look up to know he's straightening his cap.

"You know that wasn't real…that whole…why would he spend the night with you?  C'mon, I'll treat you to a bear claw."

 

"I don’t give a _shit_ about a _f—cking_ bear claw!-" I roar. “That’s not what I want!”

"You want Tyrell Wellick,” he says, with a sigh. I don’t need him looking at me with pity. “Well, guess what? You can't have him. And you know why you can't? Covering your ears won't do you any good."

 

He grabs me by the collar of my hoodie, jerking me upright so that I'm looking into his face.

I can't understand any words coming out of his mouth. It all sounds muted for a second.

"-He can't be your prince charming. Wake up! Now, get off your ass."

 

"What did you do with him?!!" I scream into his face. "Just tell me!"

" _Jesus Christ_ , how many times do I have to tell ya to keep your _goddamn_ voice down? You don't want your neighbors calling the cops on you again for losing it. There's other dicks in the sea, if that really floats your boat. Or is his the on-"

"Shut the hell up!" I yell, shoving him off me.

He’s wrong this time.

I knew that Tyrell was obsessed with me. And the last time I saw him here, it was real. I wasn’t hallucinating. Tyrell said he loved me-that’s what his obsession turned into.

And I accepted it.  

"In what reality would that psycho prick be in love with you? He's only in love with himself! And you, you need to be honest with yourself about that and admit it."

 "Shut up!!"

"You really thought he thinks of you, as what, a _god_? And he's you're his 'prophet'? What is that? I told you that and suddenly this imaginary version of Tyrell thinks the same way? Ya’know, that really makes me wonder."

"It's done now. I'm here to tell you, it wasn't real. You were imagining things. Do you know how strange it is to see someone holding and making out with _thin air_?"

I cover my ears with my hands again.

“That won’t do you any good. You know that right?”

I squeeze my eyes shut as the tune of Fere’ Jacques scratches at the back of head.  I know I haven’t been talking to you much here, but I need your help now. I need-

 

I hear the sound of someone banging at my door.

 

It’s loud enough that I actually hear it, eventually removing my hands from my ears and stare at the door. I’m not sure what I feel in this moment.

 

Panic?

 

Gratefulness to you?

 

Mr. Robot turns slowly towards it, then back at me as I get up from where I sat.

"Don't answer that. Elliot. Don't yo-"

 

"Elliot," Tyrell says, as he smiles at me. He’s holding something behind him as he walks towards me.

"You're not real," I say, my voice is trembling and I shake my head slowly. I back away from the door, which Tyrell kicks shut.

Tyrell stares at me, his smile disappearing as his eyes pierce me.

"Is there something troubling you Elliot?"

I'm dreaming.

 

I was dreaming.

I imagined all of it.

I have to be stuck in an endless loop of fallacy and reality when I thought the worse was already over with.

 “I went to your place-to see if you were there-” I stumble out. “I looked everywhere for you!”

“Yes, I saw you,” Tyrell says. His tone is gentle. He looks sad for a second.

“I was worried about you-that you-“

He saw me?

He has to be dead. How could he be gone so long-

Tyrell stares at me, not moving from his spot at the door.

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” I ask, feeling alone and lost again. Why is he so far away?

I turn to you, wondering if you’ve known this whole time where Tyrell was.

He moves his hands from behind his back to show me-

A pumpkin?

 

“Why do you have that?” I ask him. My eyes wander up and down to the large pumpkin.  I hear Mr. Robot sigh from the window in aggravation. I don’t care what he thinks right now. The only thing that matters is-

“This, it’s an American tradition, right?” Tyrell answers, sitting down on my couch. Before he does, his lips brush over my cheek and I find myself sitting next to him.

I shake my head slowly. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Yes? Excellent. Now,” Tyrell starts, as he places the pumpkin down on the coffee table.  “Sweden’s only celebrated an American version Halloween for the last twenty years or so, but I think you would know better about carving pumpkins than I do. Will you help me carve this?” He pulls out a pocket knife.

 

What the hell is going on here?

 

“We can set it on your window sill, with a candle after we’re done. I’ll use the insides to make a pie for us. Maybe even some hot coffee to go along with it?”

 

After everything that’s happened, how could he look so-?

He looks so innocent.  I’ve never seen him like this before.

 

Except that night when he was vulnerable…but still held back.

 

But now…

 

What can I even say to that? How does someone react to seeing light after sitting in darkness for so long?

 

“Sure.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted this after it was originally posted, because I didn’t like it that much .__. I fixed it a little, so I hope this better, along with the second chapter. Thank you so much for your patience.


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